Sleeping Beauty
by The Bloody Awful Poet
Summary: The year is 2006 and Annie Cartwright gets a call from Manchester General concerning a coma patient currently residing at the hospital. It's my first LoM fic, hope it's okay.


Authors note: I've yet to see the season finale, but my AU muse tends to leave me when she's proven wrong, so I had to write this before I saw it. Hope you like.  
Disclaimer: No, I don't own Life on Mars or any of the characters. I am merely playing with them, and wish I had The Gene Genie, Sam and Chris for myself.

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"Cartwright speaking." 

"Annie Cartwright?" the voice on the telephone asked. Annie's eyes widened slightly at the question. It was never a good sign when strangers had to confirm your identity. Years of police work, if nothing else, had taught her this.

"Yes, this is she. Why are you asking?" she answered, dread pooling at the bottom of her stomach.

"I'm a doctor at Manchester General. We have a patient here who's been in a traffic accident," the voice informed, well schooled sympathy present in its tone.

"Oh God, is it someone I know?" she asked, scared of the answer.

"We didn't think so. The accident happened six months ago, and none of his loved ones recognise your name, but now we've been given reasons to believe there is some connection between you."

"What, six months ago? Is he okay? Why wasn't I informed earlier?" Nervousness grabbed hold of Annie, forcing every question on her mind out.

"As I said, we had no way of knowing that you were in any way connected to the patient. After the accident he slipped into a coma and was unresponsive to any stimuli until recently." The voice carried on in its clinical way.

"Wait, a coma? Is he gonna be alright? Who is he?" Annie forced herself to ask, sinking down into her wing-back chair.

"We have great hopes for his recovery now that he's started to respond to sensory stimuli. He's shown awareness of the world, and is sometimes heard muttering even though he's still unable to wake up. In fact, these mutterings are the reason why we are calling you. He's mentioned your name several times sine he started speaking."

"He's mentioned my…? Who is he?" Annie insisted, dreading the answer but needing to know.

"His name is Tyler. Sam Tyler."

"Sam?" She said. Why did that sound so familiar? Then realization struck her, almost like a physical blow, and she very nearly dropped the phone. "Sam!"

"You know him?" The voice asked.

"I did," she answered breathlessly. "Once upon a time."

"Then maybe you're able to answer something else that's puzzled us. He keeps mentioning a Guv, but his colleges and friends have informed us that he never refers to his superiors in such a manner. Would you know who this 'Guv' might be?"

"You know, I might have an inkling," she answered, a sad smile on her face. "I'll let him know. Would it be alright if we came to see him?"

"It would be ideal, really." The voice said pleased. "He responds very well to familiar voices, and seeing that he's already thinking about you, it would most likely do him good."

"We'll be there as soon as I talk to Gene. At least I will be. You never know when it comes to Gene." She smiled wryly. With a few formalities, she ended the phone call and picked up her book of phone numbers. Her nephews children had tried to teach her how to store phone numbers on the phone, but she was frankly too old to bother with it. She was a woman of 65 and she'd always kept the phone numbers written down, and she suspected she would until she died. Finally finding the number she was looking for; she dialled it and waited for someone to pick up on the other end.

"You're talking to the Gene Genie, so talk fast, I haven't got all day," a voice on the other end informed her. Annie had to smile at that. He might be 70-odd, but besides his hair going gray and thinning, he really hadn't changed much. He was the same as he'd ever been.

"Guv," she said without thinking. Old habits die hard. "Sorry, Gene," she said, hoping he wasn't one of those who never got over having to retire and that her little slip up had sent him careening into old memories. When she couldn't hear any grumbling on the other end, she carried on. "It's me, Annie Cartwright. You remember me?"

"Cartwright?" he chewed on the word as if to see if he remembered the taste. "You were a plonk, weren't you? Worked for me back in the 70s."

"Actually, I believe the phrase used nowadays is detective constable." She smiled, not really taking any offence. She'd worked side by side with Gene too long to be touchy whenever he spouted some derogatory nonsense.

"I don't hold with that PC crap everyone has to live up to these days." Of course he didn't. He wouldn't be Gene if he did.

"So, Cartwright, any reason why you decided to give me a ring? Did you fancy meeting up somewhere for a quicky, or was it something unimportant? If my memory's not failing me, you had quite the arse on you back in the day." Annie rolled her eyes at that, yet she felt pleased. It was good to speak to Gene again. She'd missed him, even if she hadn't known it.

"I'm 65, Guv," she said, forgetting once again that neither of them was working for the force any longer. "My back is hardly what it used to be."

"I bet it's still tasty, though," he said, and she could have sworn she _heard_ him wink through the phone.

"Be that as it may, Sir, that's not why I called. I got a call from the hospital today." She said, the happiness eradicated from her voice at the word hospital.

"You alright, Cartwright?" Gene's said, thinly veiled concern etched in his voice.

"It's not me that's in trouble, Guv." She answered sadly. "D'you remember Sam Tyler?" There was a few seconds of silence before Gene spoke once more.

"DI Tyler? Yeah, I remember him. Was a bit soft in the head, but brilliant none the less. Disappeared on us, didn't he? We searched high and low, but never found a trace. Suppose some of the many enemies he made offed him in the end. Damn shame, that. He was a good lad."

"Except he wasn't!" Annie exclaimed.

"What do you mean, wasn't a good lad? I thought you liked him, Cartwright. You two were mooning over each other to such a degree that it got a bit sickening, and as far as I remember, you were walking around like a shadow for almost a year after his untimely disappearance."

"I meant he wasn't killed," Annie explained, refraining from mentioning how many times she'd found him in his office at night for months after Sam's disappearance, too pissed to walk straight.

"That's what the hospital called about. He was in a car accident 6 months ago, and he's still at Manchester General. He's in a coma, and he's been saying our names."

"He WHAT?" Gene shouted. "That little shit's been alive all these years and never let us know?" She could hear him exhale heavily in anger.

"Cartwright," he carried on. "I'm going to the hospital, and you're coming with. I'm gonna give him a right kickin' for making us worry." He finished, not noticing what he'd admitted. Annie did, and she smiled slightly.

Annie had been waiting for close to 15 minutes outside the main entrance of the hospital when Gene came barging towards her, surprisingly fast for a man in his 70s who relied on a cane. She suspected the he didn't really need it at all, just kept it around to beat people he disagreed with.

He didn't even slow down as she passed her, only shook his head in a manner that suggested he wanted her to follow him. She obediently did. Jogging along, she caught up with him quickly.

"Gene, I think it'd be best if I were the one who asked if we could see Sam." He halted at that.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously, sizing her up.

"Well, you haven't got the best way with people, have you? We're gonna go see a coma patient. If you loose your temper with the poor receptionist, they won't let us in." She looked meaningfully at him.

"I s'pose y'might be right, Cartwright," he grumbled. She gave a nod towards him before stepping up to the reception, asking for directions.

"Gene, come on," Annie said, herding him with her. "He's in room 314." They walked in silence, counting off the numbered doors until they finally reached their destination. Annie drew a deep breath, but before Gene could reach the doorknob, the door opened from the inside and someone stepped out.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" The elderly woman asked, looking upon Gene and Annie with surprise.

"Why, should you?" Gene challenged.

"I am the mother of the man inside this room, so yes, I'd like to know who's visiting my son," the woman said.

"Mrs Tyler?" Annie asked surprised. "But, you're far too young to be Sam's mother!"

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Mrs Tyler answered strictly. "Who are you, and why are you visiting my son?"

"We used to work with him," Annie said hurriedly, making sure to cut off Gene before he said something inappropriate that would get them thrown out. "We didn't know about the accident until today. I'm Annie Cartwright, and this is Gene Hunt. Sam used to call him Guv," she said, hoping it would be enough for Mrs Tyler to be satisfied.

"You're Annie and the Guv? Thank goodness you exist! We were wondering if his mental capacities were damaged," the woman exclaimed in relief.

"If you ask me, they always were," Gene murmured, instantly receiving a death glare from Annie.

"Would it be okay if we went to visit him now?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes, yes of course. Go right ahead!" Mrs Tyler said, ushering them towards the door. "I hope you'll be able to help." Then she disappeared down the hall.

Still nervous about finally seeing Sam again after all these years, Annie pushed the door up. She wondered if he'd changed much over the years, if she'd be able to recognise him.

As she saw the man on the bed, she gasped audibly. Gene, unable to see anything with her standing in front of him, pushed past to see what had caused such a reaction from Annie.

He staggered as he saw the man in the bed. There was no doubt who it was, mainly because he hadn't aged a day since the last time he'd seen him. The only difference he could see was that this Sam was thinner and paler than the one he'd known, which could probably be attributed to 6 months inside, lying in a bed, not moving a muscle.

"How the bloody hell is this possible?" Gene asked bewildered.

"He told me!" Annie cried. "He told me and I wouldn't believe him!"

"Told you what, Cartwright?" Gene bit out angrily. The confusion was getting at him.

"When he first arrived, he told me he was from the future. That he'd been in a traffic accident, and he didn't know whether he was mad, a time traveller or in a coma, making it up. I thought it was the concussion talking, so I didn't tell anyone," she sobbed. "But then, as time went by, he didn't get better. He kept insisting that he was really in a coma. Said he ran into people from his future. Remember that man we pulled in for trying to take over after Stephen Warren? He insisted that man was his father, even though he was younger than him. Maybe he was right all along!"

"Now listen, Cartwright, this is not possible. People don't travel in time, especially not when they're in a coma."

"Then how do you explain this, Guv," she asked, pointing at the comatose body of Sam Tyler. "He looks exactly the same, has the same name and he's in a coma for the very reason he told me over 30 years ago!"

"It can't be true!" Gene insisted, limping in circles. "It's just not possible!"

"And yet that's the only explanation," Annie cried pleadingly.

"You can't be doing this, Tyler!" Gene yelled, slamming his cane down on Sam's bed with a great thud. "Wake up, Tyler, you've got some explaining to do. I said wake up, DI Tyler. Do I have to make it an order for you to understand?" he shouted, moving closer. As he did so, the fight in him seemed to ebb out, and for a moment he stood still, taking in all the wires attached to Sam, all the bleeping of the machines keeping him going. Kept him alive.

"Always to stubborn to do as I tell you, aren't you?" he asked silently, turning away. He dug into his coat pocket for his stash of single malt, taking a big swing before limping towards the door.

"We never got what we wanted, did we Sam?" he heard Annie say softly and stopped.

"There was always something getting in our way, and just when things were about to change, you disappeared. I mourned you, Sam." She told him. Gene hung his head, not really wanting to hear it, but felt unable to move.

"I know it's too late now, but before I go, there's something I want to do. Something I've wanted to do since I first talked to you." Gene turned his head to see Annie sitting on Sam's bed, leaning slowly down towards his face. He shut his eyes as their lips met.

When he opened them once more, he took great care in averting them from their faces, which was why he was the first to notice the movement in Sam's hand. He saw him lift if weakly before dropping it on top of Cartwright's. Obviously surprised, Cartwright puller her head back and Gene could see Sam's eyes fluttering open.

"Sam!" Cartwright exclaimed, shocked.

"Annie?" Sam whispered back. They stared at each other, completely spellbound. None of them noticed the door shutting silently behind an old man with a cane, muttering bitterly about _Sleeping-fucking-Beauty._

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_AN: Feedback is nice._


End file.
